Another day, another story!
IN living with Mama - Her living with Me - I have considered a few things we have in common this am:
1. I hate the TV on during the day/Mama loves the TV on first thing
Common Ground: We are both PASSIONATE about the TV
2. Mama likes the whites to be all Martha White Whiter than White/ I like clean underwear.
Common Ground: We both know how to find the Washing Machine
3. Mama wants me to take care of stuff/ I have other stuff to take care of.
Common Ground: It's all stuff.
4. Mama is a pessimist. Period. She considers this solid thinking/Ultimately, when all is said and done - I am an optimist. Mama considers this living with either your head in a) a hole b) the clouds.
Common Ground: Opposite sides but same coin called Life.
5. I have a favorite coffee cup/Mama has put bacon grease in my favorite coffee cup
Common Ground: We can both reach my favorite cup
I was actually going for the hole in the clouds. You know the one with the silver lining. That single shot of sunshine that rays down like it has found Holy Ground. That one tiny scrap that says in the middle of all, in spite of all, it's gonna be alright. Now I gotta find my underwear, run through the living room with my dirty underwear stuffed in my ears so I don't hear fake news, real news, any news that will rock me off my work on my book boat. Of course I may just skip out the back door on the way to that washing machine, find that ray of sunshine and bask in the rock solid reality that it has broken through the storm. And, so have I.
How are things in your world?
Yesterday was one of those Sundays that could have been a Saturday because it turned out to be sweep and shake rugs day. Not very Sunday-ish at that point but on the Sabbath of Saturday Me and mama had rested and watched Grantchester on DVD's we discovered at McKay's. It was a quiet and peaceful day in the midst of a dusty house.
Sunday began with me cooking breakfast for us - eggs, bacon and rye toast. I don't like to make breakfast. Except on Sundays. I heard Mom tell someone on the phone as I placed her breakfast on her tray, "Yes, she's made me breakfast. She is being nice to me because it's Sunday. Fact is - I am nice everyday - but the week is so busy and I am always behind deadline on something so breakfast is a quick thing like cereal or oatmeal or protein shakes and then its off to the races. But Sundays are special. They are all about the long breakfast and God and church and football and the paper. For me that means grabbing the New York Times out of the driveway, snatching the Book Review, The Travel Section, the Arts section, a second cup of coffee and then beginning to read about faraway places and books I long to read, the plays I'd love to see. It's a vicarious traveling experience without ever leaving our hill.
In the midst of this ritual when Mama's phone rang I suggested she just tell whoever it was that we were having a leisurely Sunday breakfast and reading The Times. She replied, I don't read the New York Times and answered the phone. (Insert the -She's being nice to me comment here because its Sunday here) I passed her another section of The New York Times she claims not to read. (She has a preference for the wedding section but is enthrawled with the new things she learns about education or science or amazing things that have nothing to do with politics. I sip my coffee, turn a page.
After breakfast we started cleaning. And cleaning. And cleaning some more. For those of you who don't know we have been in the midst of moving Mama in with me forever and ever. It has also been in the midst of trying to repair this old house in a hundred ways and then searching for ways to move more things in from her 50 year stay at the little house in Panama City where I grew up. She is a squatter. I am a gypsy traveler with squatter tendencies - because there is no place like home - after you roam. The roaming part is crucial to the homing part being just right. But right now it's been all about blending our lives and lifestyles. More on that later. For now I can say WE bicker. I tell her what to do. She tells me what she won't do - which I consider talking back. It's a lot just like this -
You don't need to watch TV first thing in the morning.
Don't tell me what I need. I'm 80 something years old. I think I know what I need.
Well, I don't think it's good for you. I think you should read a newspaper in the morning because you learn something and it's quiet.
I want the news that happened last night. By the time the paper gets here it's old news.
(She's from a generation that barely had cars and got their news from a neighbor. It's her Iphone that's poisoned her to think this way?)
Look, Mom - if anything really major happens there will be sirens going off or guns firing or something. Just read the paper. You don't need the noise of the TV in the morning.
I know what I need.
OK, let me rephrase that - I don't need to hear the noise of you watching the tv in the morning.
Now, that's an honest statement. And that, I can understand that.
That was all the honesty we could take that early neither of us being the kind of morning people that like to talk to other people in the house so we just shut up and read the paper and drank coffee and watched the birds. Then she wanted to play music and I wanted it to be quiet for an hour while I wrote. So I wrote a little and thanked her for all that understanding and then we played loud music. She asked me if I wanted to hear Creedence Clearwater Revival and I said, Yes, and we cleaned things.
The reward for all our hard work was that we were going to use that fabulous extra hour of daylight to take the dogs for a car ride through the country. We finally had the car loaded up right after sunset, a slight glow of pink in the hovering clouds. By the time we were winding our way though the dark with me determined to show her Bells Bend there was nothing but scraggly trees in the shadows. The timing too late after sunset to see anything. The bare winter trees scraggly points blowing in the wind, rattling against the dark, catching headlights, shaking them off, catching light again.
It's spooky down here. Don't go this way.
No, really Mom. It's nice, It's nice here.
Well, I can't see anything. Let's go back.
We were going to go for a ride and we are going for a ride.
I don't want to ride. I want to go home.
You complain about being stuck in the house so we are going on a ride. 'm gonna show you the park.
You need to Slow down.
I'm going ten miles under the speed limit.
Are there deer out here?
(A few years ago I hit three deer at once, killed all of them and survived. She is using this knowledge in a sneaky way.)
Yes. There are deer everywhere.
So, slow down.
There are nice places here, and a new restaurant down here.
Who would want to build a restaurant way out here and who in the world would want to drive out here to eat? It's spooky.
It's not spooky during the day.
Well right now it's night and its spooky and I want to go back.
I am not speeding but I still pass the entrance before I can swing in.
There it was, that was the entrance to the park. We just passed it.
Thanks for pointing that out to me.
Sorry, I couldn't see it coming up.
Cause it's dark. Nobody can see anything out here.
Okay, we are turning around and then I'm driving in there for just a minute..
The sign posted says park closed at sundown. Only campers are allowed to stay. (She infurates me when she reads the rules. Always has.) We don't belong down here.
I'm just showing you. Look, see? There's a path? A real path where you can walk that stupid dog. (He's not really stupid but he's little and a bother. My 200 pound dog however is no trouble at all.)
Well, that is nice. It looks like a nice path. Now, let's go.
I didn't even know they had camping here. I'd like to come back here to camp.
You would? Really? You like sleeping with sticks poking you in the back and mosquitos and bugs biting you all night.
The woman can douse the smallest dream before it ignites.
No. I like sitting around a campfire and looking at the stars and climbing into a tent really sleepy and snuggling into my sleeping bag.
If you say so. Are we going home now?
Yes, Mama. We are sure enough going home. Straight home.
I turned the car around the path, drove back towards the entrance and we encountered a vision. A low slung yellow moon. So big you would have sworn it was the biggest moon you ever saw. It was a word stopping, awe inspiring moon.
Would you just look at that? I think that's the biggest moon I ever saw.
Me and Mama sat there in the basking in that glow. For that moment life was threaded in perfect balance - us tethered to the moon in the dark. And for once instead of being late for something we were exactly, precisely right on time.
A little advice. Don't take your mother to the doctor and then feel guilty about leaving Big Dog and Little Dog so you tell them they can go for a RIDE when the doctors office is the designation. They think they are going to the PARK. They think they are going for a WALK. They do not think you are late for an appointment and need to take six bags, a bottle of water, a blanket, a coat, and get all in the door while leaving them behind, noses pressed out the crack in the windows.
A very special shout out and Thank you to Dr. WayneDay and his crew at Belle Meade Dermatology. They made mom's visit as painless and quick as possible, were downright genuine and put her at ease. I had picked up six magazines to take back to the little room where we expected to wait two hours for a doctor. Someone saw us before we could turn the first page. Bravo guys on being a beautiful exception to the rule. (But you still have a great mag selection. Might just arrive early next time to catch up on some reading.
Any Doc appt can be a little stressful in spite of how great everyone is so I decided getting Mom something cold to drink and a Fat Mo's burger would be just the ticket followed by a drive through our very own Central Park - Warner Parks in West Nash. So Beautiful. Watched the waning light looking out over the steeplechase field as the dogs alternately whined and tried to eat our hamburgers. I shared one with them, cranked the car and hit the trail. Mom pointed out -
It's really pretty and would be prettier if someone would pick up all those dead trees.
Ummm, kinda big place. Like, really big place. Nature doing it's thing and all that.
I'm just saying.
Big Dog and Little Dog got a chance to pull me through the cold across a field.
Back in the car I put in one of Mom's mixed cd's and drove on. Titan and Duncan stuck white noses out windows, sniffed the air. We spotted three deer. And mom said -
Look, it's just a baby.
Creedence Clearwater sang - I see a Bad Moon Arising.
I just love this song.
I turned up the volume. The sky grew darker. Drove left/right/round in circles like we were lost, like we would never find our way out, like lost was the only way we knew.
Then we emerged from the woods, cleared the trees, the lights of Nashville glittering.
Look, at the lights. And, there's a church steeple. We made it. We're not lost.
I turned due West and let the music take us all the way home.
Greetings and Good Tidings!
Wanted to share a few mental snapshot thoughts, little flashes that come roll me as I rise and walk through the day. Thank you for following, for subscribing to newsletters, for hanging in here with me on this side of the planet even when it seemed I'd hung up a sign that said, Gone Underground and then disappeared. Well, I did. Thought I'd surface now and stay for awhile. Hang around and sit down. Put my feet up and live this thing called my life. How about you? What you doing this year?
It's a rainy day on the hill I call my home. The fog rises but never clears. Today I live in a cloud. Today I don't mind. It's the time of year where fog and rain bring a little thing known as WARM. Later this week I will see clearly in the sunshine so bright I'll have to wear shades but that will be paired with a coat. I don't own a winter coat right now. Except for my inherited beaver. I wear it sometimes because it is the warmest thing I own and it is soft and I thank the Beavers and God for making furry creatures and my Aunt who owned it once upon a time and my cousin for blessing me with it when she passed so that on freezing days this Florida girl who makes her home in Tennessee doesn't catch pnemonia and die. The "and die" part is a permanent part of my language from my Grandmother who warned us kids about all manner of things that we should be wary of. Don't go down by the creek or the current will get you and you will get pulled in - and die. Don't play in the field or you will get snake bit - and die. Don't go out there without your coat or you will get pnemonia - and die. It's the song of my people. Death is at the doorstep. Defy it. Work hard. Be determined. Set your face like flint to the thing before you and take it down one step, one nail, one board, one broken heart at a time. Survive because you are born from the blood of survivors.
All that great DNA and some days I just get overwhelmed by laundry.
The fog rolls and falls between the naked tree limbs, mist and entity, tangible grey beauty.
Moved Mama in with me. This is a working story in progress. Yelling at Big Dog to shut up because he barks into eternity and it is LOUD and he couldn't care less if I yell shut up because he knows I love him and I'm rolling his medicine in Roast Beast and he doesn't care what I say because he will keep barking, barking, barking until the cows can't stand it. Pack their udders and move to the city just to get some peace and quiet.
Mom: "Don't tell me to shut up! I'm not going to shut up!"
Me: Was talking to the dog Mom. Not you. Not telling you to shut up. It wouldn't do any more good than telling him.
Me to little dog Duncan that came with Mom: - GET up, get up off that cushion.
ME: turning to Mom - What are you doing? Where are you going?
MOM: You told me to get up.
Me: I was talking to the DOG!
We are off to a great adventure. Stay tuned.
IN THE WORKS
On the forefront - 2017 is bringing in great things.
GREAT NEWS! The audio book for Saints in Limbo release. So excited about this project and love this story. Very befitting for the year as it is Mom's favorite of all my novels. I will be doing the reading personally so hope you love it.
FINALLY - Confessions of An American Mystic: Stories of Faith, Fiction, and Faraway Places - actually gets complated this month and goes to the sweet hands of the impossibly talented Adrienne Ingrum from Jericho Books/Hachette. The subtitle is going through all the stages subtitles do - might throw it to you for a mastermind vote :)
Taking a special look back this week at some of my favorite books from 2016 and the ones that I have chosen to kick off 2017. Watch for the post.
An amazing journey lies ahead this year. Within and without. Please stay close as we travel together on this great road trip we call life. And, hang on tight 'cause I hear freedom calling, the scent of green chilis roasting in the air and west coast waves calling. It's going to be a wild ride!
Thanks so much for reading, liking and sharing with friends.